¡Guadalupe!
by 6GunSally
Summary: The gruesome murder of a Mexican soap opera star has everyone in a tizzy-but never mind that! Edgeworth is about to turn 21 and Neil and Jake Marshall think he's got a few wild oats to sow... Hoo Boy! (I can't think of a better way to summarize this...) Cover art by Blazerepose. ON HIATUS
1. Who Killed Daniel Cornado?

_**Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and all characters are copyright by CAPCOM; I'm just a fan imitating. The stories presented are influenced by the multiple games as well as the comic (Manga written by Kenji Kuroda).**_

* * *

**¡****Guadalupe!**

**Chapter 1:**

**¿Quién mató a Daniel Cornado?**

* * *

Miles Edgeworth sat in one of the heavy wooden chairs in front of Manfred Von Karma's imposing desk and stared at the legal book in his lap.

"There is a pace you must control and timing you must follow," Mister Von Karma said, "Even the girl understands that with no trouble—and she's fifteen."

Edgeworth's brow twitched slightly, but he did not reply and he did not react.

"Do you understand me, Miles Edgeworth?"

"Yes sir," Edgeworth said.

"Next time, Edgeworth, I won't be so forgiving," Mister Von Karma said, "Was that all?"

"Well, sir," Edgeworth sat up a little in his chair, "I was going to ask you about something unrelated…"

"Go ahead," Mister Von Karma glared but his tone was impassive.

"Can I have this weekend off?"

Manfred Von Karma's steeply arched eyebrows arched more steeply and rose so high Edgeworth thought they might run into his hairline.

"Is there a reason for this?"

Edgeworth hesitated, "It's the weekend... And it's my..."

"It's what?"

"My birthday, sir," Edgeworth's gaze fell to the cover of the volume resting on his lap.

"I just need one day, really. I can take Saturday and work on Sunday."

Mister Von Karma reached over the expanse of his desk and rapped Edgeworth on his forehead with his cold boney knuckles. Edgeworth started to flinch but caught himself and held still. It humiliated more than it hurt.

"Your birthday is on Sunday—don't think you can pull one over on me Miles Edgeworth!"

"Actually, it's on Saturday."

"Are you being flippant with me?"

"No sir."

"I don't care for your surliness, boy!"

Edgeworth had to concentrate very hard to stop himself glaring at the man. What difference did it make if it was on Saturday or Sunday—it was on Saturday, by the way—nobody else worked on Saturdays or Sundays as regularly as he did. He just wanted one day—and it had to be Saturday. Too many things were closed on Sunday.

"Get out of my office," Mister Von Karma said, "I'm tired of looking at you."

* * *

Edgeworth closed Mister Von Karma's door behind him and sighed heavily.

"That you pardner?"

Edgeworth startled—he didn't think there was anyone around. Prosecutor Marshall was leaning out of his office and staring.

"You okay?"

Edgeworth straightened and glared at him, "Why wouldn't I be…"

"But I see you standing there, sighing like the wind on the prairie—"

"Just stop," Edgeworth said and he tucked his book under his arm and went to the stairwell door.

* * *

"I'll be twenty-one," Edgeworth said.

"Finally! Now I can take you to the bar, and we can drink beers and relax after a hard week of investigating!"

Edgeworth took a moment to wipe the look of horror off of his face before rounding on the detective with a cold silent glare. Gumshoe only grinned and shuddered in silent laughter, one hand on the back of is head.

"That's not why it matters," he muttered.

"Why do you have to work on the weekends just because Mister Von Karma tells you? He's not in charge over there, Pal."

Edgeworth glanced sidelong at the big detective; he had a point.

* * *

"You what?" The old man looked up from his meal, his voice still ringing in the expansive but empty hall.

Edgeworth stared at his cold dinner and steeled himself, "I'm moving out."

"Why?"

"Because, I'm twenty-one. Surely, I must learn to make my own way in the world."

Edgeworth put his head back down and shoved the chicken around the plate with his fork. Mister Von Karma said nothing.

"Sir," Edgeworth added finally, thinking that the old man must've been waiting for the honorific.

Mister Von Karma stewed at his end of the table. Edgeworth gritted his teeth. The silence stretched out maddeningly and Edgeworth was beginning to lose his resolve. Maybe he should just give up and stay in the big house with the old man. It's not like they had to see much of each other—aside from their awkward dinner six times a week.

"You're not twenty-one yet!"

"I will be on Saturday."

"So! You'll be twenty-one and you think you deserve to live in your own flat so you can throw parties and bring home girlfriends and other such nonsense!"

"I—" Edgeworth began.

"I didn't take you in and raise you for the last twelve years so you could party in America like all of the other idiots."

"I just wanted to live on my own…" Edgeworth stared hard at his noodles, why did he need the old man's permission anyway?

"If you must," Mister Von Karma said finally. Edgeworth bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.

"Where will you go?"

Edgeworth clenched his fists under the table to reign in his excitement, "I've found an apartment—" he relayed the neighborhood and the name of the complex, "and it's well within the limits of my stipend. Plus, by virtue of your generosity, and your kindness in allowing me to live with you, I've been able to set aside a substantial amount in savings for my expenses."

"Fine," Mister Von Karma snapped, "But this isn't an excuse to get distracted and lazy. I will certainly expect more from you."

Edgeworth swallowed.

"I suppose you will need time to move your things and set up your apartment. You may take the weekend off. But I will expect you early Monday morning and ready to work!"

"Yes sir," Edgeworth said and he almost grinned—almost. He managed to stop his smiling mouth with a large forkful of cold spätzle.

It made him gag.

* * *

"So where did the killer enter from?" Edgeworth asked aloud. He knew Gumshoe wouldn't have the answer—he was mostly thinking aloud.

"I don't know," Gumshoe said, confirming his suspicions, "but I sent a couple guys to search the perimeter outside the building."

"And the roof?" Edgeworth said—now staring intently at the ceiling.

"The roof! Yes, sir!" Gumshoe saluted and ran off before Edgeworth realized where the detective had gone. He went back to studying the ceiling, glancing once or twice at the body to help him estimate the trajectory of the fall.

It was so obvious. Why did he—the prosecutor—have to explain this to Gumshoe—the detective?

* * *

**"**There he goes…"

"Gumshoe?"

"Yeah… I reckon the twerp is wanting a cup of coffee…"

"Nah… Jake, you don't even know the guy. Ain't right to call a feller names and you don't know him…"

"Just look at that pink jacket and that high leather collar. I reckon he's got more rope on that sleeve, than I'd need to lasso El Peligro…"

"I can't even blame him for his rig, I reckon Von Karma tells him when to take care of his business—if you take my meanin'."

"I don't like the way he treats Gumshoe."

"Look lively, boys," Angel approached them with her sultry strut and a confident cock to her head that let her long blonde locks fall over one eye. She had a hand on her service weapon—a G23—that was holstered on her hip. Her badge was hanging in the hollow between her breasts—made even more vulgar and obvious by the fact that the button down shirt she was wearing was at least one size—but probably two sizes—too small.

"Wey-ll, howdy Bambina," Jake touched the brim of his fedora, "I weren't expecting to see you come round."

Detective Starr made a face at him and then nodded in the direction of the victim, "He's well known."

"Ain't no one talkin' yet," Jake said, "I reckon he might've just ended it himself…"

"Detective Marshall," another woman spoke up behind them and they all turned to look at her, "What did I tell you about jumping to conclusions?'

Detective Lana Skye was beautiful when she smiled. She had poise—a certain brand of confidence that elevated her above other women he'd known. Detective Jake Marshall grinned at her and touched his hat. Behind him, Angel Starr crossed her arms.

* * *

"Neil is the prospector assigned to this case, but Mister Von Karma asked him to let the choir boy assist," Jake said when he and Lana were alone.

"Is that him?" Lana nodded toward the perimeter cordoned off from the rest of the warehouse. Edgeworth and a woman wearing a jacket denoting her affiliation with the department's Crime Scene Investigators were crouched near the body. She was surprised; he looked very young.

"How old is he?"

"Twenty," Jake said absently, he'd pulled out a bowie knife and started scraping at the stubble on his chin.

Lana stared for a moment and then said, "So is this Gumshoe or Goodman's investigation?"

"Bruce will testify, but everyone is helping out," Jake said, "We even got Sunshine the Cough Up Queen."

"Who authorized this?"

"Detective Gant," Jake said, "I guess this Dan guy is a big deal."

"He was only a Mexican soap opera star," Lana said, "But his death is already a big deal. The Chief is caught in the middle between the local CNN and Fox affiliates and _El Universal. _So Gant is acting in his stead."

"So…" Jake said and he adjusted his fedora, "Who killed Daniel Cornado?"

* * *

Edgeworth had removed the coat. It was obvious he found the heavy brocade and the leather collar a bit much for early summer—so why wear it at all?

"Detective Starr typed up her witness statements," Edgeworth lay several printed pages on the desk, and we've got the preliminary findings as well as the initial autopsy report."

Neil could only smile—Edgeworth was on fire. Maybe that's why he put up with 'ol crazy. Neil yawned, Edgeworth was still going through the box Gumshoe had delivered and organizing the files. The Detective's case report lay untouched at the bottom.

"Ain't you gonna start there?"

Neil pointed at the report. Edgeworth looked at him but continued his own method of organization. Then suddenly he hopped up from his chair and left Neil's office.

"Edgewuh—what in the hell?"

Detective Goodman entered with another file and a grin, "Did you scare him?"

"He just took off," Neil said.

"Cute kid," Goodman said.

"That's the one everybody's talking about—Von Karma's—"

"Oh," Goodman said conspiratorially, "He sat in the chair Edgeworth had just vacated, "So guess what Gumshoe told me…"

* * *

Edgeworth hurried back up the stairs with the easel and a butcher paper block under his arm. Just wait till he had this set up, he was going to wow them—all of them. He had this case figured out to the last detail.

Maybe then everyone would stop treating him like a kid.

Edgeworth paused when he entered Marshall's office. Detective Goodman and Detective Marshall were there. They joined Prosecutor Marshall in the startled silence that fell upon Edgeworth's entrance.

"Oh," Edgeworth said, "I brought… this…"

Something seemed to break and the room swung back into action.

"Hey," Neil said, "That was a good idea Edgeworth!"

Edgeworth paused in adjusting the easel and setting the paper block on it, he stared at Prosecutor Marshall and the detectives. All he did was grab a butcher paper block and an easel so they could lay out their ideas—this wasn't a new concept. But Prosecutor Marshall had praised him—Mister Von Karma never praised him.

Edgeworth almost smiled. He finished setting up the display instead and then picked up his organizer and large felt-tipped marker.

"I know who killed Daniel Cornado," he said.

All of them looked awed as he laid out his theory on the large paper pad.

"Er, so…" Detective Marshall said and cleared his throat.

Edgeworth paused—had he written something wrong?

"I heard you had a birthday coming up," the detective said.

Edgeworth stood and gazed around the room, the other men stared intently at him.

"Well, yes," Edgeworth said, "But what importance does that have—"

"You have any plans?"

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! ¡Por favor, que me diga cómo le gusta este!**_

_(Reviews totally make my day… Totally...)_

_Yay! We get to hang out with a much younger Miles Edgeworth (he's 20/21 if you weren't sure)_

_The Marshall brothers aren't really that popular, but I love them…_

_Poor Edgeworth, all he wants is a little acknowledgement. At this point in the game, the sum total of his experience is the aborted Mack Rell trial and the doomed Terry Fawles case._

_In case it's too vague—Edgeworth still wears the crazy fancy suit inspired by Manfred Von Karma (it's kind of integral to this story… xD no no no you'll have to wait and see)_

_This takes place about a year or so before SL-9. So Lana Skye is still a detective._

_My Spanish is atrocious (I don't think it's as bad as my German), but it's pretty bad… If you see any mistakes please let me know._

_I dedicate this story to the desert Southwest of the USA… You're beautiful and I love you…_


	2. Who's bright idea was this?

**¡****Guadalupe!**

**Chapter 2:**

**¿Cuya idea brillante era esto?**

* * *

"And that's how I've concluded that the killer was none other than De Killer!"

Miles Edgeworth looked at his audience, the Marshalls and Detective Goodman, which had swelled to include Detective Gumshoe and Detective Starr as well.

They were all staring silently at him. With expressions much nearer to confusion than awe. Edgeworth carefully put the cap back on the marker and then smoothed the ruffles of his jabot with one hand.

As seconds stretched into minutes and no one spoke, Edgeworth began to feel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and a creeping dread washed over him.

Had he done something wrong? This was his first case without any of Von Karma's involvement—and he'd already failed. Edgeworth was four seconds away from running out of the room when Detective Marshall spoke up.

"I just got one question fer you, buckaroo," the detective said with a sigh, "What's the point in telling us that the killer is a killer? Ain't that the one fact that everyone is agreed on?"

Edgeworth blinked—really? He flipped the page on the butcher paper block, uncapped his marker, and wrote "DE KILLER" in large block letters.

"Isn't that Spanish for 'the Killer'?" Goodman said.

"No that would be 'El Killer'," Starr replied.

"Nah, pardner. That would be "El Asesino" which also means…" Jake Marshall said.

"The assassin…" Neil Marshall finished.

"Does that mean the killer was an 'Assassin', Pal?" Gumshoe said and scratched his head.

As one the audience said, "Oh…"

And Miles Edgeworth slapped his palm to his forehead.

* * *

*ACHOO!

"Bless you, Mister—"

*ACHOO! *ACHOO!

"Gesundheit—"

*ACHOO! *ACHOO! *ACHOO!

"Oh…" *SNIFF!

"How long do we gotta stay down here, Pal?"

*ACHOO! *ACHOO! *COUGH!

"Just until we find that file—*ACHOO! "

"But these cases are closed, Mister Edgeworth."

*ACHOO! *SNIFF! "I know that detective— *ACHOO! But, I'm illustrating the precedence—and I need some background infor— *ACHOO!

* * *

"Where in the Hell did you go?!"

"Begging your pardon, Mister Marshall," Edgeworth said, "I went to pull all the cases involving De Killer."

"You should have told me," Prosecutor Marshall said, "I just got reamed by Prosecutor Von Karma, and I ain't had any idea where you got to. I feel like I jus' been wrasseling with a rattle snake."

Neil Marshall frowned a little and eased off on the younger prosecutor—Edgeworth looked like he'd wanted to die. Neil clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Never mind all that—we need you to question a suspect."

"Wait, you have a suspect in custody?"

"Sure do, pardner," Neil said and he shoved Edgeworth toward the elevator.

"But wait—"

"If Cornado was murdered by an assassin, someone had to hire him, right?"

"Mister Marshall—"

Neil shoved Edgeworth into the elevator and pushed the B1 button, "But this little heifer ain't spillin' the beans.

The elevator jerked into motion.

"Bruce talked to her. Jake tried. We even sent in the Cough Up Queen herself—no luck. So Jake said, 'why don't we send in Cutie Pie—that's you hombre—"

Edgeworth was curled up and trembling on the elevator floor.

"Pardner?"

* * *

Edgeworth wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at her—he certainly didn't see the point in trying to interrogate her. She didn't even know the victim had died until the police came after her.

She wouldn't stop crying and he hadn't gotten a word in since they shoved him into the room with her. Edgeworth looked up toward the corner in the ceiling where he knew they were watching him on the precinct's closed circuit surveillance.

"Um, Miss," he said, "Please try to compose yourself—I don't want to sit in here any longer than you do."

"I LOVED DANNY?! HOW CAN YOU SIT THERE AND ACCUSE ME OF—"

"Shhh…" Edgeworth said, "Just calm down. All that crying is rather unbecoming of a young lady."

She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief he'd given her earlier and slid on her over large sunglasses. She struggled against a few more residual sobs and sniffed.

Edgeworth was still staring at her. She was very pretty and he was trying not to be nervous in front of her.

"So, Miss Tailor," he said and flipped open the folder in front of him, "Can you please confirm your identity for me?"

"I don't understand, darling," she said shaking her head, "Don't you know who I am?"

"Uh no," Edgeworth said. She pouted and made a sound like an irritated whimper.

"Oh very well then," she said finally, "My name is Madeline Tailor. I'm a Philanthropist."

"Oh," Edgeworth said, "So you don't have a real job?"

"That is a real job you mean thing!"

"Right—okay," Edgeworth said, "Miss Tailor, how long have you known the victim?"

"Em, you mean Danny?"

"Yes, of course."

"Danny and I have been dating for eight months. He asked me to marry him last week."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry…"

"No you're not—you mustn't say things you don't mean!"

"Hmmm…"

"I loved Danny… Why would the police think—?"

"Miss Tailor, do you know if Danny—er Daniel Cornado—had any enemies?"

"No. He was a star. Everybody loved him."

"What about business or financial problems?"

"No," Madeline Tailor shook her head.

"And on the night in question? Where were you?"

"Danny and I attended a ball. _La Gran Gala del Galope_, to raise money for retired Mexican race horses."

"How nice," Edgeworth said, "Were you with Mister Cornado the whole time?"

"Yes of course darling—oh well, he had to take an important phone call. So he went out into the parking lot—because of the noise at the party."

"Can you say at what time that occurred? Approximately?"

"I don't know," Madeline Tailor said, "Why do I feel like I'm trial here?"

Edgeworth brightened. He almost smiled—almost, "Do you feel like your on trial?"

"Oh my, yes…"

"Excellent!"

"Why is that excellent?"

"Well, because I'm a prosecutor—well… I've never had a full trial—but I am a prosecutor."

"You're a prosecutor?"

"Yes."

"Just how old are you, Mister Prosecutor?"

Edgeworth grimaced, "Em, I'm not the one under interrogation…"

* * *

**"**I can't believe you let that little freak in there," Detective Starr said.

"Well you best believe it, Cookie," Jake said, "He's already got her to say more than you were able to."

"A few more minutes and I would've had her eating out of my hand," Starr said.

Jake pointed at her and grinned, "Ain't nobody in their right mind wanna eat outta your hand."

"Please, Cowpoke, even you can't wait to let me bring you lunch," she smirked at him.

"It'll be a cold day in hell when I let you bring me lunch, Bambina," Jake said.

"Are you two flirting again?" Detective Goodman said, "You should be paying attention to this."

"Bruce, sit down and shut up!" Jake said.

"I can't help but think he's up to something sinister," Starr said looking intently through the one-way glass at the on-going interrogation.

"What did Choir Boy ever do to you?"

Detective Starr didn't answer. She just glared through the one-way glass and narrowed her eyes.

* * *

"The purpose of this exercise is to prove to you that these other substandard prosecutors are beneath your notice. If you want to get ahead you need to start acting like you belong on top."

Edgeworth was standing with his hands clasped behind his back like a soldier at rest. He didn't look at the old man directly, but stared instead over his shoulder and the glinting light coming in through the blinds. Mister Von Karma spoke to him with bared teeth and a heavily furrowed brow. Edgeworth still didn't understand what he'd done wrong.

"You were not sent to work with Prosecutor Marshall so you could run wild!"

"Mister Von Karma, I was not 'running wild' and this trip to San Diego is part of the investigation. I'm going there to work. This task force was put together because of—"

"Stop this insolent boasting at once Miles Edgeworth! You've hardly proven yourself up to task and you've no grounds to begin making demands like that."

"Sir, I wasn't invited—I was ordered by the acting police chief… I'm not sure if there's really a choice in the matter."

Mister Von Karma glared. He looked like he wanted to scream. Edgeworth braced himself for the worst. The old man tugged at his sleeve and then he sighed heavily.

"How long is this 'task force' planning to stay down there?"

"We were supposed to leave tomorrow morning and come back Friday night—Saturday morning at the very latest."

"I see, two days only?"

"Unless we uncover some major lead, but at this point we have most of our case. We're only going down to find these witnesses. Mister Marshall says we'll go to trial on Monday."

"GRRRRrrr," Mister Von Karma said with a grimace, "I should've known this would happen…"

"What would happen, Mister Von Karma?"

"That you would go off and party like an idiot the minute I let you out of my sight!"

Edgeworth stared at him—what?

"Mister Von Karma, I assure you, I have no other motive that to gather the facts I need for this case."

"You just want party and chase girls!"

"Um…"

"Don't give me that stupid look Edgeworth!"

"Sir, I—"

"Just go away…"

"I will inform you upon my safe return," Edgeworth said.

"It's too late, the damage has been done," Mister Von Karma said cryptically.

* * *

Edgeworth sat on the double bed on his side of the room and stared at the wall. How could this be happening? Was the district really that short on funds? He watched Gumshoe walk into the bathroom wearing only a stained white tee-shirt and his boxers. On the other bed, Neil and Jake Marshall were lying head to toe. It probably was less strange if you were brothers.

Edgeworth eyed the floor and wondered if he would be comfortable.

"Martin Niglass, Bucky "Cactus" Williams de Jesus, and Antonio Banderas—not that one—these men are all in custody with the San Diego PD. The boys down here were kind enough to hang on to them for us. Prosecutor Marshall and I will go down there to interrogate. Detective Marshall and Gumshoe are going to hit the street to find any other leads. Edgeworth, I need you to go to the courthouse and cozy up to the first judge you find so we can get those warrants pushed through if we need them—also, I need you to type up affidavits for whatever these three give us. It doesn't look like we'll be getting any leeway with extradition to LA."

Prosecutor Marshall nodded. Detective Marshall bumped fists with Gumshoe. Edgeworth sighed and made sure he had a spare pen in his briefcase.

He always got stuck with the boring stuff. It wasn't fair.

"Who's brilliant idea was this?"

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! ¡Por favor! REVIEW! ¡Ole!**_

_(Reviews totally make my day…)_

_The real story begins next chapter. *GRINS EVILY…_

_Ha! Madeline Tailor… I'm so lazy…_

_They totally went to the Grand Galloping Gala… _


	3. Hey boy! What have you done!

**¡****Guadalupe!**

**Chapter 3:**

**¡Hoy muchacho! ****¿****Qu****é**** has hecho?**

* * *

Miles Edgeworth awoke in a large wooden framed bed with coarse linens and a handmade blanket made with stripes in dark blues and golds.

His head hurt. His eyes seemed over sensitive to the morning light streaming in through the window. There was a thick, gritty feeling in his mouth and the vile taste of bile still lingered. This was not good.

Edgeworth sat there for several minutes trying to blink away his headache. Then he coughed. A girl popped up from under the covers in the bed beside him. Edgeworth gasped and leaned away from her and made to jump out of the bed—only to realize that he was shirtless. And pantless. And probably—he reached for the sombrero on the nightstand and slid out of bed, using the large hat to cover his vitals.

He still had his shorts on. Edgeworth raised the sombrero to cover his torso and stared at the girl.

She stared back with the largest brown eyes he'd ever seen. She was staring back at him with the same look of uncertainty, at least—Edgeworth noted—she was still fully dressed. All might not be lost.

"¿Edwardo, es el algo mal?"

"Huh?"

"¿Edwardo?"

"I'm not… My name is Edgeworth. Mi name-oh Edgeworth est."

"¿Eh?"

"My name. NAME-O…"

"Pensé que tu hablas español. Anoche, tu español era fluente," she sighed and shook her head, raven waves punctuating the movement, "¡Claro esta! Tengo que a despertar y encontrar que ha usted vuelto estúpido!"

"I beg your pardon!" Edgeworth glared and jabbed his finger at her, "D-did you just call me stupid-o? I am certainly not stupid-o!"

She just stared at him with those massive doe-like brown eyes—one dark slender eyebrow was cocked quizzically at him. Edgeworth stared back. How did he even get here?

He looked away from her and glanced out of the window. What would happen to him now? And where was everyone else?

He looked down at the sombrero he was still clutching to his chest—he really did feel rather stupid-o…"

The girl sighed and he looked at her as if only just remembering she was still there.

"Mi nombre es Guadalupe," she reached out her arm and offered her hand earnestly.

Edgeworth took a few apprehensive steps toward the bed and shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you Wadaloopy," he said.

She rolled her eyes and threw herself back down on the bed.

* * *

It was with guarded internal panic and quiet dismay that Edgeworth lay down on the bed—offensively underdressed as he was—and tried to recount the events that led up to this. Certainly, something terrible must have happened—with three detectives and an experienced prosecutor in tow, how could this have happened?

Guadalupe was crying quietly. He'd gone to check the door only to realize it was locked from the outside and all of the windows were barred. The girl was as trapped as he was. Worst of all, his clothes were nowhere to be found. Edgeworth sat up suddenly and Guadalupe gasped in surprise.

His jacket was gone. It was made for him specifically, tailored to his specifications, designed to his liking—and Mister Von Karma found it acceptable. He couldn't just walk into a store and get a replacement. Even he did manage to get back before Monday, Mister Von Karma was probably going to kill him.

"What have you done?" Edgeworth said to the ceiling.

* * *

_"They aren't so bad, sir," Gumshoe was sitting beside him on the courthouse steps._

_ Edgeworth didn't like this courthouse—mostly because the judge was rather condescending toward him—but that wasn't what he was upset about. Who said he was upset anyway? Somehow, the big detective seemed to know._

_ Most of the time it was annoying._

_ "Detective, isn't there somewhere else you're supposed to be?" Edgeworth said._

_ Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head and looked around, "Eh… I also need to keep an eye on you."_

_ "Why? Did Mister Von Karma put you up to this?"_

_ Gumshoe chuckled, "No. I don't take orders from Ol' Crazy…"_

_ Edgeworth glared._

_ "That's what Mister Marshall calls him," Gumshoe said. Edgeworth didn't need clarification. Gumshoe never referred to the other detectives as 'Mister' or 'Ma'am'._

_ "Do you know if we're going back tonight or tomorrow morning?"_

_ "Tomorrow morning," Gumshoe said, "There's still one thing left to do."_

_ It took him a moment to realize. Edgeworth grimaced, "Surely you don't mean…"_

* * *

"It's simple you see," Edgeworth said and Guadalupe cocked her head, eyes narrowed, "If only I could recall everything that happened last night, I might determine a way out of here."

"Do you remember how we got here?" Edgeworth looked at Guadalupe and she stared back and said nothing.

"It started with the murder of Daniel Cornado—"

"Oh! Daniél?" Guadalupe clapped her hands together and grinned, "Los Jóvenes y el Miedo en los Días de Nuestra Vida en el Hospital General! Daniel juega Poco Tito. El hijo del Doctor Montalvan! Me encanta ese programma!"

Edgeworth stared at her speech and then glared, "Right… So we came here to gather sworn witness statements in regard to his murder. We were supposed to go home last night."

"Oh I love Daniél!"

"So you do speak English?"

"No. No tengo… No have ingles."

Edgeworth frowned. Then he had a thought and brightened.

"Do you know—em, donde esta…" he pointed at her.

She gave him a quizzical look, "Donde esta—que?"

He jabbed his finger toward her again and she looked down at herself. She glared up at him and covered the low neck of her dress.

Edgeworth put up his hands in a panic, "No! I didn't mean—"

She slapped him so hard he almost fell over.

* * *

_**"**__Calm down Buckaroo…" Jake said lazily as he drove the rented fifteen passenger van off of the freeway, "You only turn twenty-one once."_

_ "Regardless! I have no need or interest in—"_

_ "Just one shot, it's your birthday," Neil chimed in._

_ "No it isn't! My birthday is tomorrow!"_

_ "Well, I suppose we can stay until after midni—"_

_ "Stop the van this instant!"_

* * *

Edgeworth sat on the bed beside Guadalupe. He had the blanket draped over his shoulders to hide his naked torso. He was seriously contemplating cutting or tearing head and arm-holes into it.

He got up to poke his face in the window again and see what he could through the bars. Still the same empty scrub desert. A rocky gravel drive surrounded by twisted mesquite and the odd mouse-eared cactus or an ocotillo. Somehow, Edgeworth had the feeling they weren't in California anymore.

Guadalupe stirred and jabbered at him in a few lines of Spanish. It was very frustrating. It seemed he could get almost every other word, but she spoke so fast he could barely string two ideas together before she was on to the next. He looked at her and sighed.

It was well past noon by now. His nausea had dissipated and was replaced by gnawing pangs of hunger that only seemed to grow worse as time passed. He rather liked to eat everyday. He looked at Guadalupe and wondered if she was hungry too. Certainly she was.

Guadalupe stood and walked to the barred window on her side of the bad and stared out. She had her arms crossed over her stomach. She was tall, for a girl, he thought, and skinny. She was slightly pigeon toed. He didn't find her very attractive, but he wouldn't really call her ugly either. She turned to glare at him and he realized he was staring at her.

Her chin was pointed and her mouth seemed too big for her small heart-shaped face. She looked menacing, frowning at him like that. Did he really…

Edgeworth looked away from her and turned his attention toward the barred window. He wouldn't have—there must be an explanation as to how they'd ended up here—and it didn't have to include drunken debauched sex.

"I never," he muttered under his breath and rolled his shoulders beneath the blanket.

Somehow he found his gaze directed sidelong at her. No, he wouldn't have.

* * *

_"But I shouldn't drive, Mister Edgeworth," Gumshoe said and chuckled._

_ Edgeworth glared, he'd never seen Gumshoe drunk before, and he certainly did not like it, "I'll drive, just come with me now!"_

_ "What about—"_

_ "Come with me and you'll still have some of your Christmas bonus left," Edgeworth said._

_ They'd held him down and made him swallow a shot of rotgut house Tequila and he was plenty done for the night. Jake had gone on stage with the mariachi band and started belting out country songs with a stolen guitar. At least the band looked like they were trying to play along and keep the peace. Neil and Goodman were sitting at the bar and laughing. Detective Starr hadn't come along, and was probably asleep by now in the hotel._

_ Edgeworth felt sick already. All he'd eaten for dinner were a couple of tortillas and two choked down spoonfuls of birthday flan. Jake had insisted on Mexican food._

_ Edgeworth hated Mexican food. Now his tortillas and birthday flan were protesting the shot of Tequila. Gumshoe's advice was to drink more beer. Edgeworth had managed to get a glass of water._

_ Jake fell off the stage. Several men up front whooped and shouted._

_ "Hey boy!" someone yelled above the others, "What have you done!?"_

_ Jake had broken the mariachi's guitar._

* * *

"Ah, Señior Eshwort?"

Edgeworth startled at her touch. He'd dozed off where he'd sat on the floor by the bed. Guadalupe was sitting on the bed and looking down at him. When their eyes met, she pointed toward the window.

Then he heard it, the crunch of gravel. Edgeworth got to his feet and started toward the window, at the same time, Guadalupe jumped down from the bed and landed on a corner of his blanket. It slid off in his dash toward the window.

He didn't pause in his excitement and peered out at the vehicles entering the drive. There were three cars, one was a very early model Ford pickup with the bed removed and a late model Honda Civic, both with plates from the state of Sonora, Mexico. The third was a large Chevy fifteen passenger van with plates from California, USA. Edgeworth sighed in relief.

Guadalupe perked up hopefully and then laughed. Edgeworth glared at her and then picked up his blanket and covered himself. This was about to get interesting.

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! ¡Por favor! ¡Review!**_

_(Review Ole!)_

_I want you to feel Edgeworth's pain… So no translations—nothing vital is said…_

_As for the titles, I don't know if anyone has caught on, but all of the titles are translated in the story, as a one-liner by at least one character in each chapter. Also the chapters are labeled in English in the dropdown menus (because yes, I am that much of a dork)_

_The name of Daniel Cornado's show is, "The Young and the Fearless in the Days of Our Lives in the General Hospital" (*GRIN)_

_This isn't a romance story about Edgeworth/OC… The story is titled after her because it seemed like a good idea at the time… That and this fic was inspired by the song "Happy Birthday Guadalupe" by the Killers (even though it's technically a Christmas song)_


	4. Wish me a Happy Birthday

**¡****Guadalupe!**

**Chapter 4:**

**¡Desee me un Feliz Cumpleaños!**

* * *

"That's our van," Edgeworth said.

Guadalupe stood at the far side of the room suddenly shy. Her long wavy hair hung loose around her and the expression on her face made her look very tragic.

Edgeworth gestured at her emphatically, losing his blanket twice in the process, "That's our van! We're—well I'm going to be rescued, but you can come too."

Several men exited the vehicles after they parked and made their way into the house. Edgeworth's excitement suddenly dissipated.

"Wait… I don't see…" He frowned, this was wrong.

Edgeworth sat down on the bed and drew the blanket closer around him. He felt chilly and shaky and the disappointment of seeing the van and not the friendly faces of the detectives who should've been controlling the situation—well it all seemed too much.

Edgeworth slumped against the rough hand-carved headboard and stared at the floor dejectedly. This was just too much.

Happy freaking birthday, Miles Edgeworth.

* * *

"Señor Eshworts?"

Guadalupe had attempted to eavesdrop on the men returning to the house. There was some scuffling and a lot of arguing about what to do with all of these prisoners.

Eshworts was quiet. He was a very strange companion and comically shy about having his suit stolen by El Mariachi. She poked him in the meat of his shoulder where the blanket had started to slide off of him.

"Eshworts?" He slid down from his sitting position and fell on the floor. Fast asleep. Again. This Eshworts guy was kind of lazy. Or maybe he was just that tired.

Suddenly the door to the room opened and Guadalupe left the strange young man and got up to face their captors.

"¡no puedes mantener nosotros como este!" she shouted as soon as the door started to open.

Laughter. The cruel oppressive laughter of evil men.

Then they threw another gringo into the room and locked the door.

"Dios mio…" Guadalupe said.

"Howdy, Bambina," the gringo said.

* * *

He tried to reason with her but the little Señorita refused to let him near. Eventually, Jake Marshall sat on the bed and began studying his surroundings.

They were upstairs, in a room facing the back of the house. So no one would see them, he reckoned. The back of the villa faced some low rocky hills. Game trails and foot trails stood out stark and white against the mesquite scrub.

Jake scratched at the stubble along his jaw line. Bars on the windows—both of them. One door leading out. A chamber pot—eww… and a dead body on the floor.

"What in the hell?!"

Jake jumped to his feet and backed away. Guadalupe gasped in surprise.

Jake rounded on her, "Is he dead? ¿Está muerto?"

Guadalupe shook her head emphatically, "No! No! No está muerto, pero él duerme mucho…"

"He what? Duerme? Are you sure?"

Jake looked down at the body and took a few steps closer. He bent down and took up the edge of the blanket and yanked it away. It was some scrawny frat boy—hold up! Just what was going on around here?

"Is he American?"

"Si, está Americano. Su nombre es Eshworts."

"Huh? You're kidding…"

Jake leaned in closer and turned the body over. He recognized the face of their junior prosecutor.

"Oh shit."

* * *

Edgeworth stirred awake again—he hadn't realized he'd dozed off. Guadalupe's face was inches from his and her hair was draped around them like a dark curtain blocking out the light. Edgeworth blinked.

Guadalupe sat up suddenly and shouted, "Yake! Señor Yake! ¡Eshwortsestá despierto! Señor Yake!"

"Hah! Stop yelling! I can't hear myself—"

"Howdy Buckaroo."

"Detective Marshall! How—how—what…?"

"Drink this," Detective Marshall said and passed him a flask. Edgeworth had seen him drinking from the flask before and he didn't want any part of it. He pulled away from Marshall and shook his head.

"Come on! Ain't gonna hurt you Buckaroo," Marshall said.

Edgeworth shook his head.

"Look, you're dehydrated," Marshall said, "And we're in the high desert. If we're going to get out of here and back to California, you better suck it up and drink this. I sure as hell ain't carrying your sorry ass on my back."

Edgeworth glared at him and then took the proffered flask and swallowed a mouthful of the warm liquid. He looked at Detective Marshall in surprise.

"It's Gatorade," Marshall said, "In my favorite flavor—green."

"How did you get here? Where are we, anyway?"

"You just relax there, Buckaroo… Don't drink that too fast."

"Where are the others?"

"One mystery at a time, kid," Marshall said, "The first one is how do we get out of here?"

"I think the first one should be, where are my pants…" Edgeworth muttered under his breath. Marshall startled as if unsure he'd actually heard it, and then he laughed.

"We'll see what we can do, kid," Marshall said and then he pulled off his poncho, "here, so you can at least cover up—and it's easier to move in than a blanket."

Edgeworth handed the flask back to him and took the poncho eagerly and pulled it over his head. He felt ridiculous.

"Wey—ll, don't say I never gave you nothing."

"Ah…" Edgeworth started. Was this man insane? He would never use a double negative.

"Now, we gotta find our way outta here, Buckaroo."

"Just—what exactly is a 'Buckaroo'?"

"Why, kiddo, it's a term of endearment," Jake grinned, "'cause I like you so much."

"I see," Edgeworth said.

"Happy Birthday, by the way," Detective Marshall smacked him in the arm.

"Thanks," Edgeworth said.

For the next several minutes, no one spoke. Guadalupe sat beside him on the bed and he had to try hard to resist the urge to pull away. Detective Marshall started pacing the room. He went on for several circuits and then suddenly he paused. His face brightened with his sudden epiphany.

Detective Marshall started pulling at the bars in the window, looking for any kink in the prison surrounding them.

"I've already tried all of that," Edgeworth said solemnly.

* * *

"¡Hoy!" Guadalupe banged on the door, "Todos aquí tiene hambre; deberías traer por lo menos un poco de comida."

Jake looked up from where he was sitting under the window and pushed his fedora back. Edgeworth looked at him.

"What is she doing?"

"I don't know," Jake said, "She's asking about food. But she might just be trying to get them to open the door."

He stood up and looked at the young prosecutor, "I reckon we should try to rush 'em when they open the door."

Edgeworth stared. Jake motioned for him to stand up and follow. Edgeworth frowned.

"What if they are armed, detective?"

"'Course they're armed," Jake said, "This ain't exactly the Holiday Inn."

Edgeworth got up and stood behind him, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Heck if I know, compadre," Jake said, "Just don't get killed."

Edgeworth backed up a few steps.

"If we get past these guys," Jake said, "I reckon they'll know what happened to your suit."

Edgeworth frowned at him and took a step forward.

Guadalupe turned to look at the two of them. She gave a sharp nod and started to bang on the door again.

"¡Hoy! Muchachos!"

* * *

Edgeworth looked sidelong at Detective Marshall and tried not to let his apprehension show. The girl kept banging on the door and yelling things in Spanish.

Suddenly he heard voices on the other side of the door.

The girl argued with them. Detective Marshall suddenly took up a ready stance. Edgeworth copied him with no small amount of uncertainty—he really felt foolish.

Everything happened at once.

The door opened.

Guadalupe bounced out of the room, her elbow raised and she slammed into a large bearded man who looked like he smelled bad.

Detective Marshall was right behind her. He shoved forward and his shoulder dug into the man's belly. The three of them fell to the floor.

Edgeworth stared, frozen to the spot where he stood.

Another man came running from further back in the corridor pointing a gun. The man paused; he was staring directly at Edgeworth.

He fired.

* * *

"Oh! Santa Maria!"

Jake shoved Guadalupe back toward the floor.

"Shit!"

The gunman climbed over them and fired again. And again.

Guadalupe screamed and covered her head with her arms.

"Edgeworth!"

"¡Hijo de puta!"

Jake tried to stand, but the man he'd been holding down grabbed him suddenly and held him down. There was so much noise. So much confusion.

He tried to listen for noise in the room.

"Edgeworth you high-falutin'—"

"Yake! Coge el pistola! Yake!"

"Dammit woman!"

* * *

Edgeworth put his head down and rammed into his attackers belly. The man fired again and the sound of the gunshot echoed in his head as they struggled. His ears were ringing now. The sound filling his head and enclosing him and his attacker under an oppressive blanket of noise. The acrid smell of cordite burned in his nostrils. So much confusion.

And suddenly so familiar.

He'd been here before.

"Stop fighting me!" Edgeworth shouted at him, "We'll only use up the air that's left faster! Calm down!"

The other guy dropped the gun and it fired.

Edgeworth heard a scream.

"Loco! Estas loco!"

"Daddy…"

* * *

"Oh shit," Jake said.

Edgeworth was laid out flat on the floor. The man he'd fought with had a darkening bruise across one cheek and a look of dread as he stared down at the prone young man.

"Shee—it!"

Jake knelt beside Edgeworth and patted his cheek, "Hey! Wake up, Jefe…"

"¿Está herido?"

"He seems okay. Reckon he ain't used to the excitement…"

Edgeworth's attacker tried to step away from the detective and the girl as they studied their companion. Jake pointed the gun he'd retrieved without looking away from Edgeworth.

"That's far enough, amigo," he said.

The man stopped and hunched his head into to his shoulders.

"Hey, Lupe," Jake said.

"Eh?" Guadalupe looked at him.

"Can you get me some rope?"

"Ah… Como?"

"Rope… la cuerda…"

"Oh… si!" Guadalupe trotted out of the room in a flurry of wavy black hair and a dust colored dress.

Jake looked down at the prosecutor and frowned.

"Edgeworth?"

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! Oh no! ¡Review!**_

_The action packed escape! O.o_


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